


What We Become

by Junkers



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Bargaining, M/M, Memory Loss, Mild Blood, Needles, Non-Graphic Violence, OP is scared but trying, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panicking, Strained Friendships, Strong Language, syringes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 08:38:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19169668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Junkers/pseuds/Junkers
Summary: In a world where fusion between humans is possible, trouble is bound to come from it.When Junkrat and Roadhog lose control of their fusion, they find themselves within the clutches of Overwatch trying to work their way to freedom.





	1. A Beginning to Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> Where it begins.

When the Roadrat first appeared in Australia, Overwatch hadn’t so much as blinked. A single, grainy photo of a fusion holding a torn car above it’s head uploaded onto a large forum Comments on the photo cried repeatedly that the fusion was a monster, a terrible no-good thing that needed to be stopped at all costs lest it destroy the whole country. But when no location or even names were given out, many gave up before the search started. The people of the world had little time to chase ghosts, let alone Overwatch.

Eight months passed before Overwatch paid any attention to the Roadrat. Reports of barns and farmsteads being destroyed flooded in. Those following the destruction blamed the Roadrat. The suggestion for surveillance came from an omnic monk, who after hearing the distressed story of the rampant fusion, passed the story on to a close friend in Overwatch. _‘No threat is a small threat’ _, he’d claimed. In turn, the agent pestered both his friends and coworkers until they relented and began the surveillance.__

____

As the beast inched closer to civilization, more reports of destruction surfaced. Blurred photos and choppy videos were uploaded to the internet, providing the world glimpses of the fusion as it traversed through Australia. From the uploaded media, Overwatch had been able to pinpoint the general location of the fusion and begin their surveillance.

__

To the horror of many, the Roadrat appeared more monster than human. Never before had a clear image been seen of the fusion, and those who’d witnessed it wished that hadn’t changed. Standing over eight foot tall, the beast had three arms and enough muscle to prove that their first ever picture had been _real _. Tattered pants hung on their hips, the right pant leg torn off revealing a hefty prosthetic in place of a leg. Perhaps their most startling features was the face. In place of skin was leather, exaggerated features and a grotesque grin taking up the bottom half. The two pairs of eyes and bushy brows sparked debate within the base; was it their face, or a mask?__

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Only two months after Overwatch began surveillance, however, the Roadrat disappeared. Not without leaving their mark on the world, that is.

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It had happened three weeks after Overwatch tuned in. The fusion reached a town. A small, rural town that couldn’t have held more than four hundred people. But it had been enough. Something within the Roadrat snapped, as though a switch had been flipped, and Overwatch realized all too late that the fusion’s more _‘subdued’ _nature could only be accredited to a lack of surrounding civilization.__

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By the time the Roadrat was fleeing the town, not a single building remained standing.

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Every encounter after went further and further downhill. The Roadrat had gotten a taste of true destruction, and they couldn't get enough. Their once predictable path became erratic, and they began to tear through the Outback at an alarming rate. Each week that passed brought forth the destruction of a bigger town. Property damage costs skyrocketed, and the casualty rate grew with it. Their primary targets seemed to be expensive buildings, or men and women who appeared to be wealthy.

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Then, they vanished. While in the midst of attacking a port town, the Roadrat dropped what they were doing and fled. It was the last anyone ever saw of the fusion. People speculated the beast had taken substantial damage, fleeing to avoid further injury. Others argued that they fled to avoid authorities. But no matter the stance taken, everyone searched for the Roadrat. From Overwatch to local news stations, the world was desperate for an answer. When nothing turned up after two months, however, people fell back into routine. The fusion had become the ghost story that they started out as.

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Until a year later, that was. The world, too busy worrying over the second omnic crisis, failed to see the fusion hiding among them until it was too late. Ten months after their disappearance, the Roadrat was back, entering the spotlight through Ukraine’s border to Moldova.

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Overwatch, already stretched thin by the crisis, could do nothing but watch as the fusion ransacked Europe. Many citizens had prepared for the worst, but none were ready for the sheer brutality that came knocking at Europe’s door. Smaller countries meant cities and population packed closer together, something the Roadrat would come to thrive off of.

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With rising damage costs, and an ever growing casualty rate, Overwatch was left with no choice but to retract resources from the crisis. The Roadrat traveled west through Europe, leaving mass destruction in its wake. Blockades were set up in each country the fusion approached, but to no avail. It was as if they knew. Each blockade was avoided. Countries with particularly heavy Overwatch presence were skipped altogether.

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The last straw was when the Roadrat struck a major omnic-run factory. Their most brutal attacked, fueled clearly by omnic bias. Omnic-Human relations had already been broken, the robot population becoming mistrusted as the crisis raged on. Those not involved in the crisis kept their heads down, not wanting to spark a rage that could cause harm to them. Little did the world know, their silence was soon to be interrupted.

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Around the world omnic extremist groups formed. Fury plagued the revolting omnics as they boycotted Overwatch and slandered the name. They claimed the organization had done nothing for the humans of Europe, and even less for the omnics. A once neutral part of the population flocked in hundreds, _thousands _, to oppose the group that ignored their pleas for help when it was most needed.__

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There was no doubt about it. The Roadrat needed to be stopped. And luckily for Overwatch, they had been presented an opportunity. In all of the fusion’s traveling, they had gone every way but back. As they approached the border of Spain, Overwatch planned to take full advantage of it.

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Flying high above Spain was an Overwatch dropship, loaded with four agents and their pilot. Assuming everything would go to plan, the agents would go in teams of two to separate locations to confront the fusion with a fusion of their own, and force the Roadrat to unfuse. That was, of course, wishful thinking.

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Agents Lúcio, Mercy, and sat in the aircraft cabin, finding ways to keep themselves occupied as opposed to confronting the elephant in the room. Both Lúcio and Mercy tweaked their equipment to be battle ready, Reinhardt keeping his eyes glued to a tablet that streamed the Roadrat’s destruction live. Zarya, on the other hand, read over the mission debrief once more, preparing herself for the oncoming fight that her teammates refused to speak about.

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__

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“We are approaching our destination,” came Athena's voice through the speakers. Though it was synthetic, Lúcio swore he could hear a hint of worry in the voice.

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At the announcement, each agent glanced at each other. Unease filled the cabin as the dropship began its descent. The Roadrat was strong, unbelievably so. A criminal for fun, who destroyed and murdered because they could, because they wanted the world to remember them. Going after the killers who felt nothing for their victims always made the agents feel uneasy.

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“So,” Zarya said sharply, catching the attention of the others. “Let us go through the plan once more.”

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\--

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According to both Athena's and Winston’s calculations, the Roadrat was supposed to collide head on with Lúcio and Reinhardt in ten minutes. Their position had been picked out solely for the small forested area that surrounded them. If the Roadrat attempted escape, they would at the very least be slowed down by the trees.

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The ten minutes came and went in what felt like seconds, leaving Lúcio and Reinhardt to wonder where the beast was. Had the calculations been wrong? Unlikely. Maybe the Roadrat had taken a detour, or ran into Mercy and Zarya. Deciding that checking in would be the best course of action, Lúcio tapped his comm to life.

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"Winston, what's going on? Did the fusion go another way?" Lúcio asked while keeping his eyes on the treeline.

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Silence followed. Lúcio awaited a response, but none came. Static filled his ear, prompting him to turn the comm back off. Reinhardt gave his partner a questioning look, gesturing to the device in his ear.

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“Either Winston is busy, or the comms are dead,” Lúcio clarified for Reinhardt.

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The older nodded, “Perhaps we should check on the others?”

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Lúcio considered the suggestion. If the comms really were dead, checking up with Mercy and Zarya wasn’t a bad idea. But the prospect of leaving their assigned post gave Lúcio second thoughts. What if they left and the Roadrat entered Spain?

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“I dunno man. I mean, I don’t really think we need Winston to tell us where the thing is. Don’t you think we would’ve.. Heard it or something?”

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At that moment, Lúcio’s question was answered. Somewhere in the distance, the peaceful calm of the forest was broken by the unmistakable thudding of footsteps. Biting his tongue, Lúcio wished he hadn’t said anything. As the footsteps grew closer, the unmistakable laughter of the Roadrat could be heard with it. A grating, metallic sound that millions feared.

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“You ready man?” Lúcio asked, voice wavering.

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“Of course I am ready!” Reinhardt grinned, extending his hand for Lúcio.

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Lúcio reached out to accept Reinhardt’s hand, but paused. Part of him wanted to see the Roadrat in person.

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Lúcio reached out to accept Reinhardt’s hand, but paused. Part of him wanted to see the Roadrat in person. See the monster that had destroyed Europe up close. Through the treeline he could make out the fusion’s figure. Even with the distance between them, Lúcio could easily pick out the details. It felt different in person, scarier. 

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As if their appearance alone hadn’t been terrifying enough, the Roadrat turned and looked Lúcio straight in the eye. He found himself stricken with fear as the faux-smile on the fusion’s face warped into a ghastly snarl. The fusion began to tear through the trees at an alarming rate, freezing Lúcio on the spot. Realizing his partner was paralyzed with fear, Reinhardt snatched Lúcio’s hand, initiating their fusion.

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Blinding green and gold light erupted from the spot where Lúcio and Reinhardt once stood, causing the Roadrat to shield their eyes as they stumbled into the clearing. From the light emerged an entirely new being. Appearing average at first glance, the fusion had only two arms, dark skin, and braided gray hair. Upon further inspection, one would notice the unnatural height and heavy body armor.

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Lúhardt, he called himself. One of the most powerful fusions Overwatch had in their arsenal. With the combined abilities of Lúcio and Reinhardt, the fusion was nigh unstoppable, with only one instance of a loss ever being recorded.

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“I dunno who tha’ hell you are," The Roadrat growled, lowering themselves to the ground. "But this here's _my _territory. You'd best clear out."__

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From across the clearing, Lúhardt feigned fear, humoring the Roadrat, only to break out into incredulous laughter moments later.

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“This is _not _your territory man! I don’t think Spain would ever give up their land to a good-for-nothing _parasite _like you,” Lúhardt fired back, an intensity in his eyes.____

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The words enraged the Roadrat. Their expression darkened, fingers twitching from the urge to lash out.

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“Mate, I don't think you know who you're messing with.”

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Lúhardt had been about to bite back another remark, but the Roadrat was having none of it. They charged Lúhardt, sprinting through the clearing at a speed Overwatch had not seen them run before. Lúhardt caught the Roadrat, but not with enough strength to stop the fusion, and slammed down onto the ground with the monster above them. Two arms went into restraining the Overwatch fusion, while their third went into attempting to strangle Lúhardt. The murder in the Roadrat’s eyes and madness in their laughter summoned fear and adrenaline into Lúhardt.

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A comm crackled to life in Lúhardt's ear, but went ignored as he gripped the Roadrat with all four arms and forced them off. Both fusions sprang back to their feet at once, tense silence filling the air as they both waited for the other to make the first move. Once again the comm crackled to life in Lúhardt’s ear. It was Winston, demanding him to give an update on what was going on. Lúhardt reached up and silenced the comm.

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The Roadrat took the movement as an invitation, once again charging forward. The charge was met with Lúhardt’s full strength, but it seemed even his full strength was not enough as he struggled to hold the Roadrat back. It was clear at this point fighting the rampant fusion head on would not work in his favor. Lúhardt was physically strong, but the Roadrat was stronger. Their strength was almost overwhelming.

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Using a heavily-armored leg, Lúhardt delivered a harsh kick to the Roadrat, forcing the fusion back to regroup. He wasted no time to produce his own weapons; a multi-colored hammer half his size. Lúhardt aimed the hammer at the Roadrat and brought it down in an arc. A large, green and red fire strike launched from the arc, hitting the Roadrat dead on. The fusion cried out in pain. From the looks of it, they were not used to pain.

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Taking advantage of their temporary incapacitation, Lúhardt surged forward. He masterfully landed a kick on the Roadrat’s jaw, causing the fusion to stumble back further. He didn’t intend on giving the Roadrat any time to recover. One well time swing caught the Roadrat, crushing his shoulder. The fusion roared, stumbling back into a tree. They took only a second to breathe before gripping both their shoulder and the tree behind them. Popping their shoulder back into place with a pained growl, the Roadrat squeezed the trunk hard enough to tear through the wood like paper.

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Bloody, burned, cornered and exhausted, the Roadrat seemed to give up. Never before had they been beat, let alone touched by anyone in combat. It was jarring. Something they didn’t know how to deal with. But Lúhardt’s job was not done yet. The Roadrat may have given up, but they were still fused. It was his job to make them unfuse.

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“Sorry. Had to give you the hook,” Lúhardt taunted.

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Raising his hammer over his head, Lúhardt braced himself before bringing it down-

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-only to have the Roadrat dodge the weapon completely, rolling out of the way.

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Within an instant the Roadrat was back on their feet, ignoring the wounds on their body in favor of summoning their own weapon. Lúhardt idly wondered where the fusion had gotten their second wind from as he prepared himself for another battle.

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Seeing the weapon, Lúhardt realized what he had done. In their right hand, the Roadrat swung a hook in a circle, aiming for their enemy. Panic welled briefly in Lúhardt’s chest. He had underestimated his opponent.

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The Roadrat flung the hook through the air, catching Lúhardt despite his frantic movements to avoid it. A cry of both pain and anger erupted from the Roadrat as they flung Lúhardt across the clearing like nothing more than a sack of potatoes. He collided with a tree, the force of the collision leaving him dazed.

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The Roadrat laughed as they approached their enemy, hook dangling at their side. Lúhardt struggled to stand, looking for purchase on the tree only to have it collapse behind him. He searched the clearing for his hammer, finding that it had been tossed to the opposite end, behind the Roadrat. If he didn’t think of a plan, he was going to get _killed _.__

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Without his hammer, Lúhardt couldn’t heal himself. But he found he didn’t need to. Even with the Roadrat’s second wind, they were at a disadvantage. Severe wounds slowed them down, and exhaustion was sure to kick in soon. All Lúhardt needed to do was speed up the process. Sparing a glance behind him, Lúhardt examined the broken tree trunk. Large splinters jutted up from the base of the trunk. Perfect.

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When Lúhardt turned back, the Roadrat was standing above him. A grin stretched across their face that gave Lúhardt chills.

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“Thanks for the reminder mate! I’d nearly forgotten ‘bout this damn hook!” The Roadrat mocked, the expression on their face sinister.

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Lúhardt forced a chuckle and shrugged.

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“What can I say? I’m just good at helping people,” He said. “And right now? I’d love to help you with this whole fusion disaster.”

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Before the Roadrat could voice their confusion, Lúhardt sprang up from their spot and grabbed the fusion by the waist. The Roadrat struggled, grasping onto Lúhardt’s shoulders, but to no avail. Lúhardt summoned all their strength, and suplexed the Roadrat onto the splintered tree trunk behind him.

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An inhuman screech exploded out of the Roadrat before they literally exploded. Smoke and fire erupted from the body, sending Lúhardt tumbling halfway across the clearing. Black columns of smoke engulfed the area, forcing Lúhardt to cover his face and wait for the clouds to disappear.

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What must have been ten minutes passed before the clearing was visible once more. Lúhardt groaned in pain as he forced himself off the ground to investigate the scene. A couple feet away from what was once a tree trunk were two bodies. Approaching the bodies, Lúhardt first noticed the man who was unconscious.

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Whoever the man was, he was _filthy _. Dirt and grime covered his skin in layer thick enough to conceal his skin almost entirely. Patchy, blonde hair spotted his balding head. Lúhardt kneeled down to get a better look. Upon closer inspection, one could not ignore how obviously malnourished the man was. Turning the man over, Lúhardt found the worst of his injuries. Multiple holes were punctured into his back. The wounds were fresh, bleeding heavily. Lúhardt figured from the wounds that it must have been this man who took the brunt of the finishing blow.__

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Lifting the man off the ground, Lúhardt began to search for one of his rings. The man needed urgent medical attention. He couldn’t be tried for his crimes if he was dead. As he began to walk, however, Lúhardt felt something wrap around his ankle.

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A foot or so away was the other man. Curiosity had gotten the better of Lúhardt, and he neglected to check if both parties were unconscious. The other man had not been. Wrapped around Lúhardt’s ankle was a hook. Holding it was who he assumed to be the malnourished man’s partner. Perhaps one of his most defining features would be the large tattoo on his gut, along with the torn black pig mask upon his face. In his shaking hands, he clutched the chain to the hook so tightly, his knuckles had turned white.

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“ _Put him down _,” the man wheezed.__

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Lúhardt glanced between the hook and the man. While the criminal in his arms had taken the brunt of Lúhardt’s final attack, his partner had apparently taken nearly every other attack that had been landed on the Roadrat. Fresh cuts and bruises littered his body. Gruesome burns raked up his left side, from his hip to his neck. It was a wonder that the man was still _conscious _, let alone managing to speak. Lúhardt began to understand how the Roadrat had managed to soak up so much damage and go on as if nothing happened.__

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The sound of a dropship filled the clearing. Above them, an Overwatch dropship was landing in another clearing a couple miles away. In a matter of minutes, three agents would be coming to his aid. Looking back down at the man before him, Lúhardt jerked his ankle back, tugging the hook from his hands.

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“You lost, man,” Lúhardt said. “It’s over.”

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He didn’t listen. In an attempt to get himself on his feet, the larger man stumbled and fell back to his knee. There was no way he would be able to support himself in his condition. Both he and Lúhardt knew it. He toppled over, unconscious.

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Footsteps approached the clearing. Tracer dashed into the charred area, frantically scanning the area. When her gaze fell upon Lúhardt, she sighed in relief.

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“Are you guys okay? The fusion- they knocked down the cell towers before they reached you two. We were watching the fight and they were b-”

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“We’re fine, Lena.” Lúhardt assured, gesturing towards the two unconscious men before him. “We beat them.”

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Tracer nodded slowly, backing up to join Mercy and Zarya as they caught up. Mercy was quick to approach Lúhardt and the criminals, examining each one thoroughly as Zarya put special cuffs on the unconscious men.

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“You had us worried sick,” Mercy stated.

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All Lúhardt could do was shrug.  
“Sorry doc.”

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“You could have at least answered your comm when we got communications back up,” Mercy huffed. 

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Another shrug, accompanied by an apologetic expression. Mercy clicked her tongue but said nothing more.

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After the two criminals had been loaded onto the dropship, Lúhardt unfused, and the five agents set off back to Watchpoint: Gibraltar.

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	2. Unknown Territory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he wakes up, he's scared.

‘Junkrat’ and ‘waking up’ was not something that often went together. Learning how many cups of coffee he’d need to drink to keep himself awake was easy enough. Though some would call it _unhealthy _, the coffee did it’s job in keeping him awake. Until the fatigue caught up with him, anyway.__

__Upon opening his eyes, Junkrat felt off. Not the _‘I just slept for nineteen hours after not sleeping for three days’ _type of off, but an off he had never felt before. There was a heaviness in his limbs, like blocks of lead that were connected to an even bigger block of lead that was his body. No matter how much he would have liked to move, his body refused to budge. It appeared as though speech would not be an option either. While he could open his mouth, sound refused to come out, like someone had stuffed his mouth with cotton.___ _

___Was this real? His eyes were open, but all he could see was pure white in each direction. The thoughts in his head jumbled together, creating nothing but an incoherent mess of words that made his sluggish mind lag even further behind. Nothing felt real, while at the same time feeling _too _real.___ _ _

___Had he died? A possibility. Living people could talk, and move their own body. Junkrat most certainly could not do either. Was this hell, then? Some bizarre, all white version of hell that hurt his eyes to look at?_ _ _

___Junkrat soon found the haze in his brain growing thicker. He was so tired. But hadn’t he just been asleep? Impossible. With how tired he felt, that had to be days ago already. Wasn’t he dead though?_ _ _

___The strain of trying to keep up with his thoughts exhausted him like never before, and Junkrat easily succumbed to much needed sleep._ _ _

___\--_ _ _

___For a second time, Junkrat found himself waking up. The first thing he noticed was the feeling he’d regained in his body. Aches and pains plagued him all over, the worst of it throbbing on his back and shoulders. A groan escaped the Junker as he opened his eyes. What the hell had happened to him?_ _ _

___Blinding white light assaulted his eyes the moment he opened them, forcing Junkrat to squeeze them shut once more. Why was it so bright? He began to roll away from the light, only to be stopped by the throbbing pain in his back to turn excruciating. In an instant his eyes flew open, breath coming out in a sharp gasp at the unexpected pain._ _ _

___What was going on? Panicked eyes flew across everything in the room he could see. Wherever he was, it was not his home in Junkertown. No- wherever he was, it wasn’t even _near _Junkertown. The white walls and floors were too clean. Every piece of factory condition machinery and furniture was too organized. Even the lights above his head were too bright to be from Junkertown.___ _ _

___Junkrat could feel the fear beginning to claw at his chest. He had no clue where he was, with injuries that left him in crippling pain. As far as he could tell, he was alone in the room. The lack of weight on his limbs left Junkrat to assume that, whoever had captured him, had taken his prosthetics._ _ _

____Captured._ _ _ _

___The word popped into his head. Dread mingled with his panic as it dawned on him. Junkrat had been _captured _.___ _ _

___Questions flooded his disoriented mind. Where was he? Who had managed to capture him? How long had he been unconscious? Then, the most glaring question; Where was Roadhog? Junkrat glanced around the room. No, he was most certainly alone. Had his partner been captured as well? Maybe he’d escaped? Was he dead?_ _ _

___A fresh wave of panic rolled over Junkrat as he considered the possibility of Roadhog being dead. Could it be true? Roadhog was the toughest guy he’d ever met. Junkrat had seen him take bullets and not notice. Hell, he’d even seen the guy withstand some explosions! There was no way he was dead. Right? Frowning, Junkrat realized the only thing he could rely on was his memory. The memory that couldn’t tell him what he’d done an hour ago. But what other choice did he have?_ _ _

___After taking time to relax his nerves, Junkrat attempted to remember something. Except he couldn’t. There were no memories. At least, not any that had occurred in recent times. Memories from years prior remained, but up to a certain point, his mind blanked. It felt as though someone had taken an eraser to his brain. There was simply nothing there._ _ _

___Frustration came over him as he rolled back over with care. How was it that there was nothing there? Sure, his memory wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t _usually _that bad. Junkrat clenched his fist, and stared at the bone white knuckles at his side.___ _ _

___It was only then that he remembered._ _ _

___A fist. One that wasn’t his. On the fist was a familiar leather glove. Roadhog. The fist was lodged in a broken glass screen, the image on it wavering as it shorted out. Two words on the screen caught his attention. They read _‘Omnic Fusion’ _. Then, the screen blinked off completely.___ _ _

___Speechless. Junkrat was left speechless. That had been a memory. But the longer he thought about it, the more it felt like a nightmare. Whoever that hand belonged to, it wasn’t his. And the screen. What had it meant about omnic fusion? Omnics weren’t capable of fusion as far as he knew._ _ _

___Between his earlier panic and forcing his memory, Junkrat was feeling exhausted. Though he didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want to give his captors the opportunity to do anything to him, his eyelids felt heavier as each second passed by._ _ _

___It took no time at all for him to give up fighting against the exhaustion and pass out once more._ _ _

___\--_ _ _

___Panicking after waking up was not something Junkrat would say he was a fan of. No matter who you were or how many times you’d gone through it, the semi-conscious awareness mixed with a sharp sense of anxiety scared anyone._ _ _

___The sheer panic that washed over him in his groggy state was overwhelming as Junkrat stared at the symbol above the door to his room. A symbol he’d seen so many times in the Outback, whether it be in peeling murals or sun bleached posters. The orange and white inverted circle of Overwatch._ _ _

___Overwatch. _Overwatch _had captured them! Stories told to him by older Junkers resurfaced in his memories. How the organization had been shut down because of their secret illegal activities. The assassinations, torturing-___ _ _

____I’m next _, Junkrat realized in terror.__ _ _ _

___They had rendered him vulnerable, left him alone, stuck him deep within the Overwatch base to prevent escape. He was _next _. This wouldn’t be like getting captured by Junkers. Junkers would beat the light out of anyone. Cut off a limb or two if you were being really stubborn. But they knew jack shit about real torture. No, they were too impatient for torture. If you had something they wanted, they would kill you to get it. This was not the case with Overwatch. They were professional. They had the time to do it. Junkrat shuddered, realizing what he needed to do.___ _ _

___He needed to escape._ _ _

___How, he had no clue. Staying and waiting for Overwatch, however, was not an option. Junkrat sat up, ignoring the pain throbbing in his back, and examined his surroundings. No limbs in sight. Naturally. Glancing to his right, he found a machine with wires hanging off of it facing the bed. A bomb? It was a hell of a weird bomb. On the machine was a black screen, presenting multiple numbers and waves he couldn’t understand. Maybe a timer of some sort?_ _ _

___Ignoring the screen, Junkrat instead followed the direction of the wires hanging off the machine.._ _ _

___.. Only to realize the wires were connected to him. Panic began to creep its way back into his mind. Overwatch had strapped a bomb to him. As confident as he was with bombs and explosives, Junkrat doubted he used the same materials as the organization that once protected the whole world._ _ _

___Junkrat paused. That didn’t make any sense. Why would Overwatch strap a bomb to him if they wanted something from him? He looked down to the wires on his chest. If it wasn’t a bomb then what was it? There was only one way to find out. With a shaking hand, he grabbed all the wires. Maybe if it was a bomb, he would survive the explosion. He’d already survived having his leg blown off. Squeezing his eyes shut, he yanked the wires._ _ _

___Silence. Junkrat cracked an eye open. Everything _looked _normal. He checked his hand. Still connected. Wires dangled uselessly in his grasp. The machine hadn’t been a bomb. He opened his eyes and tilted his head. Then what the hell was it?___ _ _

___As if on cue, a high-pitched whine sounded from the machine, breaking the silence of the room. It was an alarm._ _ _

___“ _Shit! _” Junkrat hissed___ _ _

___The machine was an alarm, and he’d been damn stupid enough to trigger it. Junkrat scooted as far back into the bed as he could, growling when he felt something tug at his arm. Except, instead of a hand, it was a clear tube attached to the crook of his arm. Another type of alarm, probably. In an act of defiance, he ripped the tube from his arm. He was surprised to see it wasn’t like the wires, just on his skin. On the end of the tube was a needle. Looking down to his arm, it had started bleeding. So they had been injecting him with something?_ _ _

___At the opposite end of the room, the steel door slid open. Junkrat held out the needle in front of him, snarling at the agent who had rushed into his room._ _ _

___“Don’t you take another step closer!” Junkrat yelled, summoning forth all the anger he could muster._ _ _

___The agent stopped short, giving him an odd look. Despite himself, Junkrat found himself returning the look. He’d been expecting some buff guy with a gun to come running into the room, not whoever the woman in front of him was. She was short, blonde, and had a clean white coat on. That wasn’t right. She looked like a doctor, the ones he’d seen on TV once or twice before._ _ _

___“What is the _meaning _of this!” The doctor exclaimed, ignoring Junkrat’s warning to stay back.___ _ _

___With each step closer the doctor came, Junkrat backed himself further into his corner. Increasing pain in his back was making it hard to breathe, but he wasn’t about to let some sheila in a lab coat poke and prod at him. Noticing his fear, the doctor stopped and held out her hands in a sign of peace._ _ _

___“I’m not here to hurt you,” She assured. “As your doctor, it’s my job to heal you. Now please, put the IV down.”_ _ _

___Junkrat glanced down at the IV in his hand. So that’s what it was called? It didn’t matter! Fixing his gaze back on the doctor, he held the IV firm. It was nothing but an Overwatch trick. Get him to trust them so it was easier to get what they wanted out of him. The doctor sighed._ _ _

___“Look, you don’t have to believe me, but whether you like it or not I am here to do my job. And currently my job is telling me that your arm needs to be patched up.”_ _ _

___“No!” Junkrat spat. “This is all just some big Overwatch trick. Well guess what? I ain’t fallin’ for it!”_ _ _

___The doctor pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered something. She began walking towards Junkrat once more, pulling something out of her coat pocket. Junkrat tensed as he made the object out to be a syringe._ _ _

___“Don’t come near me with that thing! Yer’ not about to jab me with a damn needle!”_ _ _

___She persisted, not saying a word as she reached the edge of Junkrat’s bed. As she reached forward, he lashed out and stabbed wildly with his IV. Unfortunately, the doctor snatched his arm mid-stab and stuck the syringe into his bicep._ _ _

___Whatever had been in the syringe took effect in an instant. Fear seized Junkrat’s mind as his muscles began to tense up and drowsiness crept into his person. _What was that, _Junkrat wanted to ask. But as he attempted speech, he found his mouth refused to open.___ _ _

___Surroundings becoming a dull haze, all Junkrat could focus on was how tired he was before falling unconscious._ _ _

___\--_ _ _

___Junkrat had come to the decision that he despised waking up._ _ _

___An hour had passed since he’d woken up from his scare with the doctor. She had identified herself as Dr. Ziegler while scolding Junkrat for being ‘an incompetent, stubborn fool with no sense of right or wrong’. He hadn’t listened to the lecture in favor of complaining over how tight the bandages around his back and chest were. Dr. Ziegler argued that they were _supposed _to be tight, and if he took them off, she would handcuff him to the bed.___ _ _

___The bandages remained on._ _ _

___Before Dr. Ziegler had left, she assured Junkrat that she would be back in ten minutes. Exactly forty minutes had passed since she said that. The clock across the room told him so. And with nothing to do, the forty minutes felt more like forty hours. But he made do._ _ _

___It started out with tearing off the Band-Aid on his arm. Luckily the IV wound had stopped bleeding before he woke up, but the bruise that formed on his arm was intriguing enough for Junkrat to rip off a Band-Aid with his teeth. However the bruise could only entertain him for so long, and all too soon was he moving onto the next thing. The plastic guard rails on his bed._ _ _

___Initially, Junkrat was only interested in how far the plastic could bend, which was not far at all. But after he realized the pain in his back had been numbed, it turned into the challenge of, _‘Can I kick the railing off the bed?’__ _ _

___As it turned out, he could._ _ _

___Through effort and putting all his strength into his remaining leg, Junkrat snapped the rail right off the bed. He let out a giggle as the plastic clattered onto the floor. Three more guard rails remained on the bed. The challenge was no longer _‘Can I kick the railings off’ _, but _‘Can I kick the railings off before Dr. Ziegler comes back?’ _._____ _ _

___When Dr. Ziegler did eventually return to his room followed by another woman, the two were met with a Junker maniacally laughing to himself as he pushed the final railing on the bed. The next twenty minutes would be spent by the second woman scolding Junkrat as though he were a child. And in all fairness, he was good at acting like one._ _ _

___“Ana?” Dr. Ziegler said, digging in a closet on the other side of the room. “Help me with this?”_ _ _

___The woman, Ana, finished off her lecture with a stern look before going to help Dr. Ziegler. Junkrat found himself grateful he only got a lecture, as the look Dr. Ziegler had given him was downright murderous. Moments later, the two women were walking back to his bed, Dr. Ziegler pushing a wheelchair._ _ _

___“What’s that for?” Junkrat asked warily, examining the wheelchair._ _ _

___“It’s for you. We are here to escort you out of the infirmary,” Dr. Ziegler said, stopping right beside his bed._ _ _

___Junkrat laughed, “Well, ya’ don’t need to _wheel _me over mate. Gimme my limbs back, I can walk myself.”___ _ _

___“I’m sure you would like your limbs back, but we are not currently authorized to give them back,” Ana said and gestured towards the wheelchair._ _ _

___So they wanted him to get in a wheelchair? When he was capable of walking? Junkrat frowned. This was just another way to make him vulnerable._ _ _

___“... No.” Junkrat said._ _ _

___The refusal caused a five minute disaster of the two women wrestling Junkrat out of bed and into the chair. The stories would tell that in that very moment, Junkrat truly did resemble an animal with how he kicked and hissed. Only when they threatened sedation did he calm down. He was tired of waking up and forgetting where he was._ _ _

___So down the hallway they went, Ana and Dr. Ziegler having an animated discussion using names and words Junkrat had never heard before. Tuning the two out was easy. Listening to conversations he couldn’t understand frustrated him, even if it could give him some information on what was happening. He laughed. Roadhog hated when he didn’t listen, which was often._ _ _

___Had Roadhog been captured too, he wondered? Or had the big guy managed to escape the clutches of Overwatch? Junkrat found that one hard to believe. Of the two, he was definitely craftier than Roadhog, and he had gotten captured. The more he thought, the more questions he had._ _ _

___How had he gotten captured? Was Overwatch in Australia? Junkrat couldn’t recall hearing anything about the goodie-goodies going to the Outback. Well, he couldn’t remember anything at all. Even in a more stable state of mind, the gap in his memories persisted. As though he’d just disappeared. It wasn’t that he couldn’t remember them. The memories just weren’t _there _.___ _ _

___Having gotten so entangled in his thoughts, Junkrat didn’t realize he was sitting in a new room until Ana tapped his shoulder. Against his protests the two women helped him out of the wheelchair and placed him onto the rock they called a ‘mattress’. Oh well. He was used to sleeping on the ground anyway._ _ _

___Turning to say goodbye to Ana and Dr. Ziegler, Junkrat found that the two had already exited the room. He got one last glance at Ana before the steel door slid shut._ _ _

__\--_ _

__The ‘new room’, as it turned out, was just a holding cell._ _

__Not a strong enough word existed that could convey how crazy the cell was driving him. In the past week and a half, Junkrat could count on one hand how many times he’d been let out. Thankfully there was a window, but one could only stare at the same scene for so long without getting bored._ _

__Regardless of how boring the ocean was, he stared hopelessly out of the window. Where they were, he didn’t know, but he did know that it wasn’t Australia. The unknown scene before him left him only to wonder how it was they were captured. Lack of memory drove him mad each time he thought about it._ _

__With a huff, Junkrat crossed his arms and turned away from the window. His prosthetics had been given back to him an hour after he was thrown into the room, something he was grateful for. Acquiring his limbs did little to quell his frustrations, however. That he typically left to drawing._ _

__Only one form of entertainment had been provided to him, and that was the ability to draw. In his bleak little room were two simple pieces of furniture; a bed and a desk (He considered himself lucky that the bathroom was a separate room, unlike a prison cell). But in the singular drawer of the desk, he’d found a pen. A seemingly useless pen at first. It held no ink cartridge. It didn’t even have a tip that one could write with. Hours later he would find out that it was not a normal pen, but a _digital _pen after accidentally turning on a screen built into the desk.___ _

___For the first time ever Junkrat was glad he could draw, a godsend of abilities when it was the only thing he had to do. Sitting down at the desk, he threw open the drawer and grabbed the pen. Special care had been provided to the pen, as Junkrat was afraid to lose it, even in an mostly empty room. Once he started drawing, he was off, falling into a trance as he got lost in the inky black lines. Half an hour passed before Junkrat stopped to look at what he’d created. The regret hit him instantly._ _ _

___What had started out as a simple box turned into a memory he’d forgotten. Sticking out of a broken screen, a fist still unfamiliar to him. Bold, warped letters that read Omnic Fusion stood out sharply. A sense of urgency overtook Junkrat as he erased the picture from the canvas. Once the picture was cleared, he threw the pen onto the desk and sprung up from his chair._ _ _

___He hadn’t meant to draw that. Junkrat sat down on his bed and clenched his fists. Overwatch was monitoring him with a camera in each corner of the room. It wouldn’t surprise him if they could directly monitor the screen in the desk._ _ _

____Dammit._ _ _ _

___Each time he drew, it was just the first thing that popped into his mind. Bombs, explosions, faces, it hadn’t mattered. Until it did. He didn’t care what Overwatch knew about him, but he didn’t want memories like those to be known to the people imprisoning him. Junkrat bit his lip and fell backwards onto his bed. Maybe they would assume it was a nightmare or something._ _ _

___About twenty minutes later he had his answer when two agents in light gray uniforms entered his cell. One of the agents was speaking to him, but Junkrat wasn’t listening. So they hadn’t believed it was a nightmare, then. He couldn’t see what else the intrusion would call for. Interrogations had ended six days ago when they realized he had no memories of the events they spoke about._ _ _

___Junkrat was brought back to reality when one of the agents snapped a pair of cuffs over his wrists. He hadn’t seen the agent walk towards him._ _ _

___“Uh.. what are these for?” Junkrat asked, straining against the cuffs for emphasis._ _ _

___“For transportation to other rooms, we’ve been ordered to restrain you,” The agent who cuffed him replied._ _ _

___At once, both agents moved forward and seized his shoulders, escorting Junkrat out of his cell. For once, he didn’t struggle. Excitement coursed through his being as he walked through the bleak halls of the Overwatch base. Boring as the whites and grays may have been, six _days _had passed since he’d been let out. The plain walls felt like the most interesting things he’d ever seen.___ _ _

___With their destination unknown, Junkrat found himself wanting more than just being out of his cell. For six days he hadn’t had a conversation with anyone. While he could of course talk to himself, it wasn’t the same as having someone respond. Seeing as how there was a person on either side of him, Junkrat wasn’t going to miss his opportunity._ _ _

___“So.. Overwatch huh? Bet yer’ both real good at fighting. Like ninjas or somethin’. Probably don’t even need cuffs on with you two around,” Junkrat said._ _ _

___Neither agents reacted. Junkrat moved on, undeterred by the silence._ _ _

___“What brings you two gents to Overwatch? I’d tell ya’ how I got here, but I’ve got no clue! Big gap in my memories, like I just _poof! _Vanished.”___ _ _

___Nothing. Unfortunately for the agents, Junkrat was determined._ _ _

___“Not the social type. I getcha. Me partner’s just like that. Says nothin’, but the toughest guy I know!” Junkrat exclaimed. “Though, between us three, I think he’s just puttin’ on a tough act. ‘Hog acts like he’s the meanest bloke around, but that’s a load of shit. Saw ‘im with one of those plush onion things once.”_ _ _

___Oops. Roadhog had told him not to tell anyone that. Not that it mattered much. The agents weren’t listening to him anyway. Junkrat’s mood soured, and if he could cross his arms, he would have._ _ _

___“You guys are the _worst _,” he huffed.___ _ _

___The silent treatment ensued for the rest of the walk. Each attempt at conversation was shot down by simply saying nothing. To pass time, he’d started to count the number of doors they passed, but lost place and gave up. When they reached their destination (Which must have been at the top of the damn base with how many stairs they went up), the agents keyed the door open and shoved Junkrat inside. The door was sliding shut before he could even think to turn around and say goodbye._ _ _

___When Junkrat finally acknowledged his surroundings, he found himself at a loss._ _ _

___In the center of the room was a large conference table. On one side sat Roadhog, a factor that would have made him ecstatic, had the.. _Thing _across from him not been a gorilla.___ _ _

___“This is a joke right?” He chuckled, eyes darting between the gorilla and Roadhog._ _ _

___“No, this is most certainly not a joke, Junkrat. Take a seat,” the gorilla answered._ _ _

___Too stunned to rebel, Junkrat scurried across the room and took a seat next to Roadhog. He’d seen plenty of unnatural things in the Outback, but never before an animal that could talk. Or one that needed to wear glasses and a full suit of armor. It was both disturbing and intriguing._ _ _

___“So..” Junkrat started, tapping his fingers on the table. “What’s this about?”_ _ _

___The gorilla began tapping away at a holopad, “You both have been called in here because of something Junkrat has drawn.”_ _ _

___Roadhog looked down at Junkrat, and even through the mask he could sense the question being asked. _What did you do? _With a shrug he dismissed the question, but Junkrat couldn’t help wondering. Would Roadhog know what he drew? Through some bizarre circumstances, could he have the same memory?___ _ _

___Before the two Junkers, a hologram blinked to life. The memory he’d drawn not even an hour ago, the one he tried desperately to erase. So much for that._ _ _

___“I assume you both know what this is?” The gorilla asked._ _ _

___“I’ve got no clue what that is, mate,” Junkrat lied. “Think it was a nightmare or somethin’. Been stuck in me brain since I woke up.”_ _ _

___It wasn’t entirely a lie. The scene wasn’t a nightmare, but that didn’t mean Junkrat knew what it was. His lack of knowledge seemed to disturb the gorilla in a way. Words spoken only to himself spewed from the animal as he tapped at his holopad. Junkrat idly wondered if what he said had been wrong, somehow. Could he be wrong for not remembering something?_ _ _

___The drawing disappeared, the image being replaced by a shot of some office._ _ _

___“Athena, play the footage from the halfway mark,” the gorilla said to no one._ _ _

___“Sure thing, Winston,” Said a woman._ _ _

___Junkrat jumped. Though he would never admit it, the voice surprised him. Getting used to the modern technology surrounding him would take time. Turning his attention towards the screen, he watched with boredom as time-lapsed footage showed an empty office. The windows on the far side of the screen revealed a factory below, conveyor belts and rattling machines taking up the dull gray room. He reeled with disgust as he got a glimpse of who exactly were manning the machines._ _ _

___With the distance they were nothing more than specs on the screen, but it was obvious to anyone who the employees were. Cold metal, blinking lights, exposed wires and chest plates. Omnics._ _ _

___“What do ya’ think showin’ us a bot factory is gonna go?” Junkrat scoffed._ _ _

___"The footage isn’t about the omnics,” Winston said._ _ _

___At that moment, the footage began to blink red. Brow furrowing, Junkrat looked back towards the screen. Below, omnics could be seen fleeing the factory floor. What was going on? The sound of a door slamming open had him leaning towards the footage, and into the office walked a beast._ _ _

___The beast threw the husk of a destroyed omnic onto the ground. Wooden floors splintered from the force. Impressed as Junkrat wanted to be, the beast looked frighteningly familiar. Everything from the face to the pants screamed at him, telling him he should know, begging him to remember. Beside him Roadhog shifted. Sparing a glance, Junkrat noticed his fists were clenched. So it was affecting him too, then. When he looked back up, the beast was searching the room._ _ _

____“Let’s see what we got here,” _It rumbled.__ _ _ _

___It’s voice alone was enough to send shivers down Junkrat’s spine. Inhuman, metallic growls that put the snarls of animals to shame. The beast searched through every item, tearing apart cabinets and flipping over all the furniture in the room._ _ _

___Then, it stopped._ _ _

___Junkrat stilled. The angle of the footage shifted to a rear view of the beast. In the beast’s three hands was a tablet. It awkwardly tapped and scrolled through the device, making it clear to anyone watching it didn’t know how to use it._ _ _

___Anger racked the body of the beast. Muscles tensed, it jabbed at the screen once more before tossing the device across the room. In front of it, however, a television screen built into the wall blink to life._ _ _

___Words ran across the screen, too small to be picked up by the security camera. But whatever had been on the document sent the beast into a rage. Drawing back it’s fist, the beast punched the screen, shattering almost the whole television. The screen wavered and glitched before blinking off completely._ _ _

___That was it. His memory. That was _it _. The fist, the broken screen. Even with the television shattered to bits, Junkrat knew exactly what the document had said. _Omnic Fusion _. An unspeakable amount of dread came over him. That beast, the three-armed monster with the grotesquely shaped face.._____ _ _

___He turned to Roadhog wide-eyed, finding his partner had already been staring at him._ _ _

___“That..was _us _?” Junkrat forced out.___ _ _

___A single nod from Roadhog sent him spiraling into an even deeper confusion. How? For that beast to be them, it would have to mean they.. fused? But that couldn't be right. Junkrat had never fused before, never even considered! And with Roadhog? From the stories he'd heard, fusion was supposed to be an intimate thing, something you did with people you could trust. He and Roadhog were barely friends, if they could even be called that!_ _ _

___“ _Junkrat _.”___ _ _

___Coming back to reality, he found both Roadhog and Winston staring at him. His hands had moved to his hair without him realizing. With the way the two stared, Junkrat assumed they had asked him a question. Moving his hands down, he forced a none too convincing grin._ _ _

___“Sorry?” He muttered._ _ _

___“Are you aware of what that is?” Winston repeated, enunciating each word carefully as he gestured to the screen._ _ _

___Did he know what it was? Besides his single memory, no. Junkrat knew nothing. He didn’t understand why he fused with Roadhog, didn’t know where he was or where the fusion was. Not sure if he wanted to know either. It was all so confusing. But the situation frustrated him as well. Winston had to understand he didn’t know anything. From his prior interrogations to now, nothing had changed. Junkrat still didn’t know anything._ _ _

___“I’ll do ya’ one better,” Junkrat said, dodging the question. “Why are ya’ askin’ us this? Keep us locked up for a week, then ask us for all we know?”_ _ _

___Winston shifted, put off by the question. He seemed to be torn, understandably so. Answer to two criminals, or continue with a fruitless interrogation. Under no circumstances should he ever have considered, but when he didn’t immediately say _no _, Junkrat guessed he had run out of options.___ _ _

___Junkrat grinned, “What’s the harm in tellin’ us mate? We’re bein’ sent off to the slammer anyway.”_ _ _

___There was no way him or Roadhog were going down without a fight, but Winston didn’t know that._ _ _

___“Well..” Winston trailed off._ _ _

___“ _Well? _” Junkrat repeated.___ _ _

___Though he hesitated every step of the way, Winston eventually relented with enough haggling from Junkrat._ _ _

___“It’s.. the omnics,” Winston started. “Overwatch was recalled three years ago to help fight the second omnic crisis. We were.. It _was _getting better. But then two years ago, you two came along as your fusion,___ _ _

___“Two _years _?” Junkrat interrupted. “We were fused for two years?”___ _ _

___Winston nodded at the question. Junkrat turned to his partner, sensing the same shock he felt even if Roadhog’s face wasn’t visible. Two years had passed. Against all odds, he and Roadhog had fused, and done so for _two years _. Winston continued, ignoring their blatant shock.___ _ _

___“For two months your fusion wreaked havoc through Europe. With the crisis going on, we couldn’t spare as many agents to slow you down. Then, four weeks ago, your fusion attacked an omnic-run factory. The attack on the factory was brutal. Significantly more so than any other attack you had conducted. Your fusion actively chased fleeing omnics solely to destroy them, something that had never been reported to happen before._ _ _

___“Omnics all across Europe became enraged. Those not involved with the omnic crisis became involved in extremist groups opposing Overwatch. They claimed we did nothing to help the humans in need, and even less to help them.”_ _ _

___“So you think that thing he drew can help you with omnic extremists.” Roadhog stated._ _ _

___Winston nodded, “The possibility of this being part of a larger plot is too great for Overwatch to simply look over. Many technological advancements have been made to omnics since the crisis started. We can’t allow them to have fusion on their side, not when it would put so many lives at stake.”_ _ _

___Junkrat was overwhelmed by information. Overwatch wanted his memories. He and Roadhog had fused. Left Australia. Terrorized Europe. Caused extremist groups to form. A second omnic crisis had started, and Junkrat hadn’t heard about it until now. The gravity of the situation hit him like a brick._ _ _

___Overwatch didn’t want their information. They _needed _it. To stop the crisis from becoming more devastating than the first, to potentially save millions. They needed him. The information settled his nerves. This was it. Their _chance _. Junkrat was going to get them both out of jail. He would make Overwatch fight to keep them around._____ _ _

___“Yeah yeah, this is great an’ all, but what’s in it for us?” Junkrat commented._ _ _

___“I- what?” Winston asked, dumbfounded._ _ _

___Junkrat sat forward, leaning with his elbows on the table. He could feel Roadhog’s eyes on him, and chose to ignore the spike of anxiety that came from it._ _ _

___“What do we get from tellin’ you? Doesn’t seem too worth it if yer’ just gonna throw us in jail right after,”_ _ _

___“This isn’t- it’s not about what you _gain _from it! It’s about potentially saving the world!” Winston exclaimed.___ _ _

___“Mate, you’re forgettin’ - we’re not the good guys. _But _,” Junkrat sneered. “I wouldn’t be opposed to makin’ a deal.”___ _ _

___Silence fell over the room. Across the table, Winston was deep in consideration. When he looked to Roadhog, the man tilted his head in question. Junkrat only winked and gave a thumbs up under the table before turning back to Winston._ _ _

___“And.. what kind of deal would this be?” Winston questioned._ _ _

___“Simple! We tell you what we know, you set us free! It’s a win-win for everyone!”_ _ _

___“Absolutely not,” Winston said without missing a beat. “After what you two did, there is no setting you free. Telling Overwatch what you know would at most remove one of your _many _impending life sentences.”___ _ _

___Holding back his frown, Junkrat fell back into his seat with a huff. Well, that hadn’t been expected. He’d been hoping for at least a little negotiation. But Junkrat was nothing if not determined, and going down quietly was not on his agenda._ _ _

___“I get it, I get it. We did some bad things while we were fused!” Junkrat admit. “So consider this; We tell you the info, and you let us _work _for our freedom. Besides, sounds like you lot could really use the help scrappin’ these bots!”___ _ _

___Winston’s eyes narrowed, “You’re asking me to recruit you into Overwatch? To work for you freedom?”_ _ _

___Junkrat beamed, “If that’s what it takes!”_ _ _

___The incredulous laughter that erupted from Winston had Junkrat wishing he could fight the stupid monkey. A growl escaped him, leg bouncing to keep himself occupied._ _ _

___“What would it look like to the rest of the world if Overwatch recruited the two criminals that terrorized them?” Winston said as his laughter subsided._ _ _

___“You were _all _criminals three years ago,” Roadhog interjected. “Whole damn world knew you were recalled against Petras.”___ _ _

___Well, Junkrat certainly hadn’t known that. But Roadhog had always been more observant than him anyway. The comment from his partner had shut Winston up, something Junkrat was silently grateful for._ _ _

___“Besides, who said the world gotta know we’re here?” Junkrat pointed out. “I mean,_ _ _

___‘s not like they know who we are anyway. All they know is the fusion me and ‘Hog over here were.”_ _ _

___It was a valid argument, and Winston knew it._ _ _

___“You’re suggesting I recruit you in secret?” Winston asked._ _ _

___“I would not advise doing that, Winston,” said Athena._ _ _

___Junkrat scowled, glaring up at the ceiling where the voice was coming from. Some bot was about to ruin their one-way ticket out of jail. He couldn’t let that happen._ _ _

___“Look mate, if you’re negotiatin’ with two criminals, you gotta be out of options,” Junkrat pushed. “So what’s holdin’ ya’ back? Why not just say yes?”_ _ _

___“How would you explain this to the UN? We are already on watch by them,” Athena argued._ _ _

___It was plain as day that Winston was listening more to the bot. How was the choice not obvious? Hire criminals for information that could save the world, or follow the law. Junkrat knew Overwatch was a bunch of goodie-goodies, but he didn’t think they could possibly be _that _stupid.___ _ _

___“Athena is right. Hiring you would endanger Overwatch’s reputation. The risk of getting shut down again is too great. The world needs us now, more than ever. We can’t put that on the line so two criminals can be free, when they should be imprisoned.”_ _ _

___The answer was jarring. Winston, despite admitting they needed the information, turned him down. Over reputation of all things! Junkrat may not have been jumping with joy at the opportunity to join Overwatch, but he knew a senseless decision when he saw one._ _ _

___“Fine! Fine,” Junkrat hissed. “Send us to jail then.”_ _ _

___Winston began to speak, but Junkrat was quick to cut him off._ _ _

___“But don’t say we didn’t offer to help ya’ when the damn rust buckets learn how to fuse!” Junkrat jeered. “Who knows! Maybe an omnium here will blow up, just like it did in Oz! Destroy a couple countries with radiation. Not that _we _would know, since we’ll be wastin’ away in jail. But don’t come cryin’ when yer’ _‘friends’ _try _literally _stabbin’ ya’ in the back for a couple o’ scraps of food!”_______ _ _

___Stunned would not be a strong enough word to convey the expression on Winston’s face. The gorilla was frozen, mouth agape at the outburst. Neither him or Junkrat had expected it. Only when Roadhog reached over and put a hand on his shoulder did he realize he had been trembling. Not from fear or sadness, but from _anger _. Because how could someone be so stupid when presented with such a convenient opportunity!___ _ _

___After minutes of an increasingly uncomfortable silence, Winston found his voice enough to speak up._ _ _

___“What uh.. What was your deal again?”_ _ _

___Out of spite and annoyance, Junkrat considered not telling the monkey. Wouldn’t that be a fun _‘you missed your chance’ _slap in the face? But he decided against it, as not getting thrown in jail would be more preferable than getting the last laugh.___ _ _

___“We tell you what we know. You let us work for our freedom,” Junkrat said, and extending his hand despite the cuffs. “Do we got a deal?”_ _ _

___Staring at the hand as though it would poison him, Winston grimaced. It seemed he truly had no other choice. He accepted the hand with a sigh._ _ _

___“Athena, register our two newest.. _Agents _into the system,” Winston said to the bot. “We’ve got work to do.___ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so much longer than I originally intended it to be. But that's fine cause I like this chapter :p
> 
> I'll likely update on Sundays, but since I already had these two chapters written, I uploaded them today!
> 
> Once again, I hope it was enjoyable!
> 
> Also I hope the accents are okay? I didn't wanna do too much but didn't wanna do too little either. I think it's a decent balance? Lol. I'm also apparently, very bad at using this site so.. my italics are gone! woo! after how long i spent trying to fix it I just.. gave up. i'll get it next chapter though!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm Junkers, and this is my first multi-chapter fanfic!
> 
> I am.. very nervous, actually. Not only my first multi-chapter fanfic, but the first time I've uploaded to this site at all! I'm going to try my best to write and keep a schedule!
> 
> This story was inspired by a really cool piece of fusion fanart I found, which I will post the link to:  
> https://therizino-san.tumblr.com/post/148246522743/crashboombanger-i-wanted-to-voice-the-fusion-of
> 
> I hope it was okay! I'm no professional at writing, but I hope it was at least readable!


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